


glass plates

by kerrykins



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Drabble, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: A scene from Telanu's "The End Of All Things" from Miranda's POV. If you want me to take it down, let me know and I'll do so immediately.





	glass plates

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The End of All Things](https://archiveofourown.org/works/779873) by [Telanu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telanu/pseuds/Telanu). 



Another month since she’s seen her daughters. Miranda’s always been a meticulous person, but she’s obsessively been keeping track of this. She doesn’t know where they are. But she does know that they’re alive. They have to be, because if they’re not, Miranda doesn’t know what she’d do. Shatter, probably. But she won’t shatter, because her daughters are safe. She knows this, but that doesn’t keep her from worrying. She lives off of hope, because that’s all she’s got. Miranda’s had everything taken away from her, but she’s still got hope, though lately that hasn’t been enough.

 

Miranda doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do. She has to know what to do, because so many people are relying on her. They're looking to her for guidance, calling her a hero and a leader with stars in their eyes. She's not any of these, but she just smiles tightly and carries on, because she knows people need to believe in something. The world's so horrible already, people crumpling to their knees and then the ground. They’re so quiet when they fall, hardly making any noise. Miranda thinks this is unfair, a life ends and the best the universe has to offer is a soundless thud. But nothing is never fair.

 

Before she registers what she’s doing, she hears the crash of porcelain. Perfection shattering into millions of sharp fragments before her eyes, the pieces flying in all directions. Miranda keeps throwing plates on the ground, and her eyes are stinging with tears. Goddamnit. Listening to them crack and explode only heightens her frenzy, and now glass is splintering around her so fast it makes her head spin. More, more more, a voice goads her in a soft whisper. 

Another plate slips from her trembling fingers, even though she didn’t mean to drop it yet. She can barely stand up now, she’s shaking so badly. Miranda falls to the floor in broken sobs, feeling shards pierce her legs. Her pants are sticking to her calves, and she doesn’t have to look down to know that she’s bleeding.

 

She can’t stop crying, and her throat is raw from screaming. Miranda knows she should feel like she’s burning, but she doesn’t. She just feels broken. Irrevocably and horribly beyond repair. Her breaths are coming out in little gasps, and she can’t swallow, like a piece of glass lodged itself in her esophagus. The adrenaline that was coursing through her earlier had faded into a dull hum, and she feels exhausted.

 

Miranda hears footsteps, quick and urgent. Andrea’s coming up the stairs, her face drained of colour and eyes impossibly wide. “Miranda!”

 

For a moment, Miranda forgets that’s her name and just stares at Andrea in disbelief, then stumbles to her feet. She doesn’t know how she must look to the younger woman, but her chest is constricting painfully and she suddenly aware of how much she’s covered in blood, sweat, and tears.

 

“Oh,” Andrea says faintly, like she understands, even though that shouldn’t be possible. Even though Miranda doesn’t understand. “Oh god, what happened?”

 

“Nothing,” is Miranda’s answer, her voice coming out raspy. “Nothing ever happens.” Andrea’s looking at her with a blank expression, and Miranda can see the gears in her mind at work. There’s one more plate, a small saucer that’s smooth and cool under her fingers. “Duck!” Andrea jumps back in alarm, and Miranda slams the plate against the wall behind her. Once the pieces fall to the ground like snow, Andrea’s running across the kitchen to her. “Miranda!”

 

Oh, there’s more. Miranda seizes a sugar bowl and is about to toss it when a pair of strong hands take it from her roughly, and then Andrea’s holding her by her elbows. “What the hell’s going on?” She looks almost as frazzled as Miranda feels.

 

“You’re here early, that’s what,” Miranda answers bitterly, as she pries herself out of Andrea’s arms. “You have interrupted a ritual, Andrea. What on earth do you want?” Her heart is still thudding heavily in her chest and it feels like waves are roaring inside her head, but she can think like a real person again.


End file.
